


As I Choose Again to Live

by Stayawhile



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-24
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 10:32:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/572323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stayawhile/pseuds/Stayawhile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of A Study In Pink, John considers his new flatmate.  A companion piece to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/533954">If You Were Dying.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	As I Choose Again to Live

 

I must be mad, John thought to himself.

He was used to lying awake long into the night. Since Afghanistan, sleep had been elusive at best, his thoughts and memories far too noisy for rest. Dull, joyless days alternated with nights filled with dreams of horror, blood, pain and loss. It was in this narrow bed that his gun seemed to murmur in the back of his head, its voice increasingly a comfort rather than a threat. 

As a soldier, John Watson had learned not to fear death. As a civilian, he feared he would come to embrace it.

But the past day, at least, had been anything but dull. His potential flatmate had flung him into a potent mix of excitement and danger, in which his body had forgotten its limitations and his instincts had swept him along in the wake of Sherlock Holmes. 

_I know you're an Army doctor and you've been invalided home from Afghanistan. You've got a brother worried about you but you won't go to him for help because you don't approve of him, possibly because he's an alcoholic, more likely because he recently walked out on his wife. And I know your therapist thinks your limp's psychosomatic quite correctly, I'm afraid._

He considered Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, who had discerned John’s history at a glance. The man’s gift for observation was extraordinary, though his personality was abrasive at best. Not that he didn’t know it—Sherlock seemed accustomed to contempt and dislike from those around him. But he didn’t appear to care. He used people: John had barely met Sherlock, and the man had summoned him from the other side of London just to send a text. If he took the flat, no doubt he’d do all the washing-up. 

John couldn’t deny he’d been warned.

_You know why he’s here? He’s not paid or anything. He likes it. He gets off on it. The weirder the crime, the more he gets off._

Perhaps that was true. But John was fascinated. As he reviewed the day in his mind, he remembered laughing more than he had since—he wasn’t certain, but probably since he’d come back to England.

_That was the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever done._  
 _And you invaded Afghanistan._  
 _That wasn’t just me._

_A bloody awful cabbie._  
 _That’s true. He was a bad cabbie. Should have seen the route he took us to get here!_  
 _Stop! Stop, we can’t giggle, it’s a crime scene!_

_Welcome to London._

The entire mad day had been…fun. It probably shouldn’t have been. A normal bloke wouldn’t enjoy a day like this one. An ordinary man would feel something other than this sense of satisfaction after shooting a man in cold blood. There must be something wrong with me, John thought, that this everything I’ve done today felt so right. 

_You’re not haunted by the war, Doctor Watson ... you miss it._

He knew he’d take the flat. He would live with the enigma that was Sherlock Holmes, a rude, thoughtless, arrogant, self-proclaimed sociopath, and a genius. John had never known anyone who could _see_ the way Sherlock did—instantly taking in all the tiny details most people never noticed, and understanding what those details meant and how they linked into a chain of cause and effect. Bloody brilliant. 

Sherlock Holmes had looked at John Watson, and seen more than a crippled, emotionally damaged ex-soldier. 

_You’re a doctor. In fact you’re an Army doctor._  
 _Yes._  
 _Any good?_  
 _Very good._  
 _Seen a lot of injuries, then; violent deaths._  
 _Mmm, yes._  
 _Bit of trouble too, I bet._  
 _Of course, yes. Enough for a lifetime. Far too much._  
 _Want to see some more?_  
 _Oh God, yes._

Sherlock had seen the man John Watson used to be. He’d seen someone whose skills and training were needed, someone brave and a little reckless, someone who knew how to save a life, and when to take one.

John wanted to be that man again. In a day, Sherlock had cured his limp and found a new purpose for his gun and his life.

He rolled over, realizing that he was smiling. 

Whatever happened, it wouldn’t be boring.

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Ariane DeVere at Livejournal, whose transcript of A Study in Pink was a great help.


End file.
